Day by day, he tends the garden. The passing of time is endless. Yet every vine is trimmed; every weed uprooted. So it has been for centuries, and so it will be.

They say he was a mighty guardian, tall and quiet. That he seldom cared for wars or trifles, but when he did, his was a force to be reckoned with. A forest hermit and keeper of secrets. Secrets even the Grand Mavolomaster feared. And so he was spirited off, never to be seen by man or fae.

The garden's trees grow far and wide, casting deep shadows across their caretaker. He accepts their gift. Yet his mind is troubled. All is not well with the world, and he is not privy to its troubles.

The winds are changing.

Malgaelir is a fairy, capable of appearing small or large, and beautifully winged. Nearly as wide as he is tall, he cuts quite the figure. Especially in pajamas and slippers.

Five hundred years ago, he was sealed in a grotto by the Grand Malvolomaster. The context of his imprisonment is unknown, but his existence was only uncovered by chance. Magical barriers, keyed to his energy, prevent him from flying or straying away, but he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he barely uses his powers. While Arkytrope has much to answer for, Malgaelir remains sunny and calm, content to care for the plants.